Note: In the end I decided to raise the rating... I imagined a little Inkheart fan reading the previous chapter, and shuddered... lol. This is another violent chapter, but it's probably the last one in this story. Here we go.
Chapter Eighteen: The Bluejay and the Wildcat
Meggie was still sleeping when dawn broke. No light seeped into the dungeons - everything was just as cold and dark as it was last night. Mo couldn't sleep. His throbbing hand and burning back kept him awake all night - it wasn't particularly easy to slumber on the night before your execution. Mo gazed at Meggie's sleeping form, unable to accept that this may be the last time he ever saw her. Ever.
The hatred still burned inside him. It burned like fire, yet was cold like ice. What was the damned Adder going to do to him? Feed him to a lion? Drop him off a cliff? Drown him? Burn him? None of those seem painful enough, thought Mo bitterly. The slowest death the executioners of the Castle of Night had ever given anyone... Back when he had first heard those words he had felt fear, nothing but fear. Now he wasn't afraid at all. All he felt was the hatred.
Mo felt his head snap up as the guard came to unlock his cell. Involuntarily he reached for his sword - and realized that it wasn't there. Of course, you fool, he thought, they took it from you ages ago. Meggie opened her eyes blearily as she was dragged upright by the guard. Then she looked up at her father with raw fear in her eyes. They're going to kill you, Mo, they're going to kill you! Her blue eyes seemed to say frantically as she grabbed ahold of his arm. Mo gave her the most encouraging smile he could manage, and followed the guard outside.
The dungeon led straight to the courtyard. Mo's eyes took a while to adjust to the bright morning light. Meggie was squinting, too, but she no longer looked sleepy or half-blinded when the gallows came into view. As they came closer Mo saw that they weren't preparing the gallows, at all - it was quite obvious that they were going to execute him in some other painful way. Meggie seem to realize that, too, and she went even paler, if that was possible.
There were many people, standing around the edges of the courtyard. Maids, servants, soldiers, guards - the entire Castle of Night seemed to have gathered here. Mo spotted the Adderhead, sitting at a platfrom at the front with his wife at his side. The Magpie was standing there, as well. However no one occupied the spot where the herald should have been standing. Basta was nowhere in sight, either. Meggie looked up at Mo as if she was trying to tell him something, but the rough shake of the soldier behind her silenced her. Mo wanted to strangle that man, but of course that was not possible.
By sunset of three days from now... Suddenly Mo realized that this was sunrise, not sunset. If Dustfinger was going to take until this evening to put his plan into action... Mo tried not to think about it. But one thing was for certain - the execution was taking place far, far too soon. At least Meggie didn't know that... If she had then she would already be in tears...
The Adderhead's gaze never left Mo. In fact, the entire castle seemed to be staring at him. By the way their eyes were fingering his back the welts had probably bled through his shirt. And the line across his face... It was probably something that attracted attention, as well. More descriptions for Fenoglio to add to the Bluejay songs, thought Mo bitterly. The Adder seemed so happy - it was almost awkward, that smug grin on his face. By contrast his wife showed no emotion. Just like a porcelain doll. It was strange, how quiet the courtyard was - despite its size and the number of people in it, it couldn't have been more silent.
The guard marched Mo to the center of the courtyard. Meggie, meanwhile, was pried from Mo's arm and was dragged away, alarmingly close to the Adder's platform. She started to sob - that was the only sound in the courtyard. If you didn't count Mo's heart, which was beating far too loudly, and far too fast. It seemed like a wonder the Adderhead couldn't hear each and every heartbeat.
They hadn't bound Mo. There was probably no need to. There was nowhere Mo could have run, even if he had wanted to, for soldiers were in the battlements, and the gates of the Castle of Night were firmly shut. Mo stood there, his eyes burning into the Adderhead, waiting.
"Bluejay." the Adder spoke at last, taking the hand of his wife. "Good morning to you."
Mo didn't return the greeting. He just eyed Meggie, who was being tightly held by a soldier at the Adder's side.
"Why, Jay, you don't seem to be feeling your best this morning!" the Adderhead said in mock surprise. Only silence answered him. "It's a pity, for there's a big day ahead of you!" the Silver Prince guffawed. The hatred gnawed at Mo like the teeth of a beast. It almost gave him physical pain, trying to resist that sensation.
"I thought over how I was going to execute you, Bluejay," the Adderhead said casually. Meanwhile Mortola's eyes bored into Mo like knives. "In the end I decided that someone else should do it for me. No, not the executioners, but someone even better. Then I remembered that I needed to get myself a new herald! The perfect idea came to me - the herald will kill you!
"But it couldn't be any normal herald. He had to be someone cunning, violent, beastly... So that you, Jay, would die a slow and painful death, just like I promised you, all those weeks ago! So the man I found was right for the job agreed to my conditions... That if he successfully kills you, he would recieve your weight in silver. I would make him the richest man in Argenta after me - but only if he managed to kill you."
Mo just stood there and listened without turning a hair. Meggie, however, was trembling. That was probably what the Adder had wanted. His smile got wider.
"And so, Bluejay, I introduce you to... the Wildcat!" As if on cue a man emerged from behind the Adder.
He was the most beastly-looking man Mo had ever set eyes on. He looked like a wild beast - unkept, savage, muscled. He was baring his teeth in a grin that looked more like a silent snarl. Oddly, he was keeping his hands behind his back. That meant he was hiding something. Mo began to scan the man for any weaknesses, flaws, or hints. Finding none he looked into the Wildcat's eyes. The pupils were strangely dilated, and the light in his eyes was like those of a mad dog. Mo grimaced. A mad man was much more dangerous than a sound one.
Without a word a sword was tossed to Mo by a soldier. His sword. He was slightly puzzled, but picked it up anyway. Only when he looked back up at the Adder he realized that the king wanted not an execution, but entertainment. It wasn't particularly entertaining to watch someone get run through with a blade withing five minutes. The Adderhead wanted Mo to fight the Wildcat.
The Wildcat had come to the center of the courtyard, as well. He started to circle Mo, just like a hungry animal. The courtyard seemed to be holding its breath. Mo brandished the sword, holding it in front of him, trying to be as well-prepared as possible.
"Let's get down to business, shall we, Jay?" the Cat rasped. He drew his right hand out. For a moment Mo just stared at it.
The Wildcat was wearing a peculiar leather glove on the hand. At the end of each finger was attached a long, shiny, and terribly sharp, metal claw. The first thought Mo had was that it would break one's fingers, using that thing as a weapon. But the Wildcat had obviously trained with, and used, his horrible invention for a while. Mo could just tell, by the natural way the fingers were spread out, making the claws reach as far as possible. The other hand was free. Mo wondered why.
He soon found out.
"I'm going to gouge your eyes out, Bluejay," said the Cat. "And then perhaps I'll slash your stomach open and tear out your guts... Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't die too soon..." Mo cast Meggie a quick glance. And readied himself.
Without any warning the Wildcat gave a snarl and sprung forward, claws bared. From beside the Adderhead Meggie let out a scream as claw and sword met with a shattering clang of metal. Mo immediately felt the strength of this man, his sheer power. Those fingers seemed to be very strong. Any normal man's fingers would have buckled under such a blow. But the Wildcat's fingers held, almost locked in place, as he pushed to get the advantage.
The Wildcat used his claws like multiple swords. Those shards of metal seemed to be everywhere - one sword and a shield wouldn't have been enough for defense against those lethal claws. But desperation, rage, and hatred gave Mo the advantage. He parried all those blows, oblivious to the Adder's laughs, Meggie's sobs, and the tense crowd that surrounded him. Once or twice a stray claw nicked his shoulders and arms, but it was nothing serious. The battle seemed to be going well so far.
But that was when the Wildcat used his free hand. It clenched into a fist, and before Mo knew it, it had struck him hard on his face. The welt stung like crazy, but that wasn't the biggest problem. He had lost his balance. And balance was crucial in battles like this. The fist landed on his jaw, this time, sending him staggering to one side. Why did the Cat's hand feel so hard? Like a hard wooden mallet striking him repeatedly? Then there was a glitter of silver; the claws were tearing down the front of Mo's shirt, leaving searing lines in their wake. Another punch; he saw stars. The Adderhead's hollering reached his ears, ever so dimly, but Meggie's cries couldn't have been louder.
Hearing Meggie's voice gave Mo strength. Instictively Mo struck out at the Wildcat with his sword. With a satisfying cry, Mo was back in control of his feet again. He whirled around to face his opponent. The Wildcat turned to him. They looked at each other for a moment, acessing the situation. The Wildcat was bleeding from a wound at his shoulder. As for Mo the front of his shirt had been torn open by the Cat's claws. Blood flowed freely the gashes underneath. Mo barely felt the pain any more; there was just too much of it.
The Wildcat began to stalk him again. But just then a voice reached Mo's ears. His head snapped sideways at the sound of it. By Mortola's side, Mo saw with another burst of anger, was Orpheus. What was he doing here? But the important thing was, he was holding a sheet of paper. And he was reading from it.
"The robber felt the pain..." his voice sounded ever so beautiful, but to Mo each word was like poison. Each word was coming true. Suddenly pain, such overwhelming pain, took over Mo - burning, searing, biting pain that gnawed away at his flesh. He doubled over - if this was mental torture it would have been like watching Meggie and Resa die. The Wildcat's confused face seemed blurred, ever so distant. But the confusion turned to glee as he realized that this was an advantage for him. Slowly he came forward, flexing his claws. More agony racked Mo's body; it simply knocked him to the ground. This was pain that only words could have created. The only two things he could now think of were - Stay conscious. Don't lose sword. Quite possibly the only people who knew what was happening was Meggie, Mortola, and Orpheus. What about the Adder? If he wasn't surprised at all, like the bewildered onlookers, it was obvious that Mortola had told him of the secret power of words.
Orpheus was clearly a wonderful writer, and reader. Even when Meggie's screams pierced his reading every word came true, every single word. The Wildcat set his knee on top of Mo's burning chest and raised his claws high.
Then, as soon as it had come, the pain was gone.
Mo blinked. All of his strength returned to him. A quick glance told him that something was keeping Orpheus from reading any more. And that was Meggie.
Meggie. She had somehow freed herself from the soldier's grip and had now latched onto Orpheus's thin hair. The man was screaming; his beautiful voice was cracking. The sight was almost comical. Mortola was screeching something; but Meggie had taken the sheet of paper Orpheus had been holding and had trampled it in the dust. Good Meggie. Clever Meggie. Brave Meggie.
Mo felt that his arm, the sword-arm, was pressed below his own torso. The hilt was digging into his back. His free hand was the injured one. Grimacing, Mo took this chance, when the Wildcat was still bewildered, and punched the Cat in the face.
The herald gave a yowl of pain and surprise. He was so truly like a wildcat. Ignoring the awful burning in his hand, Mo gave the Cat another mighty punch, and hauled himself back to his feet. The ground seemed to tilt under him as he attempted to get his balance. The Wildcat was coming at him again. Didn't that beast ever tire? This time he looked even more intimidating, with his bleeding nose and bruised face. His face was twisted in rage. Mo was about to brace himself for some more rough treatment when he heard the cry of alarm - "Fire! The Castle's on fire!"
Even Mo and the Wildcat stopped to glance up at the castle. Flames, gigantic flames, were licking up the castle - the silver vipers were beginning to become scorched from the heat. Mo looked towards the Adderhead, Meggie, and Mortola. Meggie was staring, in more awe than fear, at the fire, while the Adder was trembling, face ever so pale. Mortola merely seemed shocked, taken aback.
"Put it out! Put it out now, you accursed fools!" the Adder's voice cracked from fear and surprise. Mo realized that his book, the book, must be inside the castle. And he smiled. Things were turning out to be a lot better than he expected. Dustfinger obviously found a way to set his plan into action. At the right time.
Mo turned back to the Wildcat, and raised his sword. Time to play his role in the story.